


I feel like I'm drowning

by JustB3D



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Almost A Songfic, Chateau Guillard (Overwatch), Cheating, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/F, Smut, Songfic, Squirting, Vaginal Fingering, basically tracer hates widowmaker but loves eating her out, take that as you will, tied wrists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29360301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustB3D/pseuds/JustB3D
Summary: its so funny, seeing the small and insignificant thing being all angry and righteous, and all of it melting away when she's buried between those thighs, hands tied behind her back.she doesn't realize it but she's born to be a pet.
Relationships: Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	I feel like I'm drowning

**Author's Note:**

> accompaniment to this piece I made: https://twitter.com/justB3D/status/1359932487670009857?s=20

Its a nice night. There are no clouds, and the full moon has bathed Chateau Guillard in a cool light.

Amelie used to love gazing out of the window during the nights. Its the only thing she and Widowmaker have in common. Earlier it was a sense of silent wonder and peace. Now, its just observation: looking for vantage points, possible entries, possible exits. A small game she plays to keep herself occupied until the next mission arrives and she has to go.

And as she adjusts herself in front of the windows, spreading her legs as far as she wants them to go, she idly looks down. Between her legs was the ex-Overwatch agent, call sign tracer. Lena Oxton, to her friends and family.

Pet, to Widowmaker.

Her eyes have the same look they had on the first day: crippling embarrassment, defiance, and a little bit of righteous anger. But the glint, the twinkle in her eyes, it gives her away: half of her hates Widowmaker, the other half is drunk on her. She wants it more than anything else. Otherwise she wouldn't have run into her at a time and place so convenient, basically asking to be taken away.

After the fiasco at king's row, she should have learnt to keep distance. She had a girlfriend after all. A casual mention of whom basically made Tracer come along.

Her fingers card through the short brown hair and grip it with a little more force than necessary. Lena lets out a whimper, her face wrinkling. It almost momentarily evokes pity, but the emotion comes as fast as it goes, leaving nothing behind. Lena gets the message and begins servicing her captor, using a pressure and enthusiasm she knows Widowmaker likes. She can't bear the fact that she's cheating Emily, she can't bear the fact that she's pleasuring her enemy, and yet at the same time she's the wettest she's ever been. Tears streak down her face when she realizes she's actually enjoying it.

_Emily...I'm so sorry._

its so funny, seeing the small and insignificant thing being all angry and righteous, and all of it melting away when she's buried between those thighs, hands tied behind her back.

she doesn't realize it but she's born to be a pet.

"Ahhh, Ça y est." Widowmaker says, her voice husky with pleasure, sending a shiver running down Lena's spine. Lena is further rewarded by a gentle tug, pushing her face deeper between her enemy's thighs.

Lena's resolve cracks, the fake facade of dignity cracking away with each feverish lick.

_You keep dreaming and dark scheming_  
_Yeah, you do_  
_You're a poison and I know that is the truth_  
_All my friends think you're vicious_  
_And they say you're suspicious_  
_You keep dreaming and dark scheming_  
_Yeah, you do_

She knows the face above her. She had seen it smile, seen it up close whenever she came to visit Gerard. It wasn't Amelie. It was someone else wearing her face. Someone who had forgotten somewhere along the way that they were human, lovable, gentle, kind. Lena knows the path this woman has been made to choose. She was a tool, she would be used until she was of use, and then discarded, or worse, destroyed.

_You're so plastic and that's tragic_  
_Just for you_  
_I don't know what the hell you gonna do_  
_When your looks start depleting_  
_And your friends all start leaving_  
_You're so plastic and that's tragic_  
_Just for you_

Another tug breaks her out of her reverie, that small shred of dignity in her mind continues to scream harder than everything else. She drowns it out.

Widowmaker's amazed at the skill of the trophy she's acquired, the way the tongue is where she wants it to be, exactly when she needs it there the most, and with the pressure she loves. Its almost telepathic, and its pushing her close to the edge. She begins rocking her hips to extract more pleasure out of her toy.

_I feel like I'm drowning_  
_I'm drowning_  
_You're holding me down and_  
_Holding me down_  
_You're killing me slow_  
_So slow, oh-no_  
_I feel like I'm drowning_  
_I'm drowning_

She feels close, feels Lena fighting back a little, but keeps riding her face. Just a little longer.

"Merde." She whimpers and her body lets go: quaking, pleasure ripping through her body, her legs unstable, her fingers nearly tearing Lena's hair out. And when she descends from her high, she pulls up her toy, brings her close to her and claims her lips, tasting herself, exploring her mouth, her tongue. Her hands reach to untie the binds and free her prize. Hands soon run along her body, so warm, so perfect.

Lena is hoisted off her feet, come running down her chin, trickling down her throat onto her chest, subconsciously crossing her legs around Widowmaker's hips, as she gives in to the sniper's feverish exploration of her body. The nails leave scratches on her skin, the lips revealing teeth marking her, claiming her. When the fingers slip inside her and she's lowered on a bed, her mind is a battlefield. The pleasure is unparalleled, the guilt is suffocating and the two have now mixed, she's swimming. She closes her eyes because the sight of those half lidded eyes, those curled lips, its too much.

_My life's okay_  
_Yeah, just when you're not around me_  
_My life's okay_  
_Just when you're not around me_  
_My life's okay_  
_Just when you're not around me_  
_My life's okay_

Widowmaker is saying something, probably encouraging her to talk, to moan, but Lena's decided there's a limit to how low she'll stoop. She remains stubbornly non-vocal, despite Widowmaker coaxing a whimper here and there. She whimpers again when she feels a tongue dancing on her nipple, and hears the sniper making an amused noise.

Widowmaker thinks its only convenient. Lena could claim she was captured, and managed to escape, and she would have to not explain a thing. She could just return to Emily, who would be waiting with her arms outstretched. Its clever, she has to hand it to Lena. She gets her pleasure, gets to watch Lena while pleasuring her, they continue suffering each other's existence.

"I hate you." Lena croaks, almost inaudible, so close.

"I hate you too." Widowmaker says, pushing her off the edge.

For a few moments, she watches her toy coming undone, arching her back and fighting back a groan, a battle she loses. It almost makes Widowmaker feel something.

_I feel like I'm drowning_  
_I'm drowning_  
_You're holding me down and_  
_Holding me down_  
_You're killing me slow_  
_So slow, oh-no_  
_I feel like I'm drowning_  
_I'm drowning_

When her senses have returned to her, she realizes she's in the sniper's embrace, under the sheets, the bedroom bathed in a soft light. She's lost this battle. Again.

_I hate you._

She repeats that word over and over, as she watches the peaceful face, deep in slumber.

_I hate you._

She looks so vulnerable like this, almost like Amelie, and she trusted her enough to sleep, holding her like a lover.

_I hate you._

Its an acquiescence, how Lena's arms wrap around Widowmaker's form, conceding defeat. Letting go.

_I hate you._

She lets the comfortable darkness take her in.


End file.
